Just Another Victim
by landusaumer
Summary: A man walks into the shop of Sweeney Todd. Todd is currently out, so James Thorton decides to have a look around. I'm terrible at writing summaries. Rated T just to be safe.


_Oh yes I actually wrote a story! First time publishing. Reviews are wanted!_

_Yea it's still a work in progress, but I really wanted to post something on here. Comment if you want more!_

I opened the door to an empty parlor. Despite what my colleagues told me, this place was hardly enchanting. But, according to half the population of London, the barber who practiced here was the most accomplished of them all.

"Ello? 'Nyone here?"

No answer.

"Elloooooo?"

I sighed.

I had hoped to get a very nice shave today, for it was my wife and I's anniversary.

Not quite sure what to do, I started to debate on whether to leave the parlor, or stay and wait for the barber. After a few minutes, I had decided to stay a while, and hope that the barber would be back soon.

I walked in further to the shop, closing the old door behind me.

"Humph." I snarled.

This so called "parlor" was hardly a parlor at all.

The wallpaper was grey and charred, which created a dreary feeling throughout the room. The hard, dusty floors, complimented the walls in such a way, that even the brightest of stars would dim at the sight of the place.

In the middle of the room was a lone barber's chair, to the right a lone vanity containing the barber's tools.

The barber.

If my memory served correct, his last name was Todd. But as for his first name, it would not come to mind. It started with an S, that I was sure of. Was it Stuart? Perhaps Stanley? None of the names that came to mind sounded correct.

I grew bored of guessing the barber's mystery name and moved on to snooping through the small vanity. On it, I found a picture of a beautiful woman and what I presumed to be her child. I was perplexed by the warmth the lady's eyes brought to my soul.

"What a lucky man this Todd must be."

For a moment, I felt a tinge of jealousy knowing that the beautiful woman could never be mine.

"But I have a fine woman," I reminded myself, "one who loves me, despite what I look like."

Almost instinctively, I placed my hand on my right cheek.

It was burnt here. Charred. Scalded. A tattoo, of humiliation. Touching my cheek brought back memories. Painful ones at that.

"_You sir, are a disgrace to man kind. As much as I want to show you mercy, your constant devotion to a life of crime, counteracts my will to be kind. You, Mr. James, shall be sent to a workhouse until you reach the age of 18. May God have mercy on your soul."_

I remembered that day very vividly. Devastatingly vivid.

I was only 7 back then. They sent me away to the London Boys Work House, but not before branding my right cheek with a hot iron rod, to show that I was convicted there, rather than just simply being a misfortunate orphan that was abandoned. Although, compared to what had happened, being a misfortunate sound awfully pleasant. The elders took great care into only whipping me on my burnt cheek.

This all happened because of Judge Turpin.

The judge was a man of pure greed, sentencing anyone away on any felony he could think of. He sent me away on one of stealing. Luckily, I had only "stolen" a few loafs of grainy bread, and was not sentenced to death. But still, the very thought of the judge sickened me.

"The Great Judge Turpin," I snarled, "the bloody old vulture, who preys on the lame in the lower zoo. How I despise your soul."

I was so lost in my own thoughts, that I had forgotten that I was on another man's property, until a knock came from the door.

"Mista T? You in there?"

It was a woman's voice.

I wasn't quite sure what to do. For some reason I was panicking, and decided that I needed to hide.

I looked around the room and to the left of the barber's chair was a broken mirror, a crib, and a dingy old chest. The crib looked too small and fragile to hide in, so much to my dismay, I ran over to the chest.

Just as I closed the top, the door opened.

"Mista T? Hmm, I could've sworn I heard someth-"

She stopped.

Footsteps coming towards the chest.

I froze.

"Well now what's this?"

She just started to open the chest as the door opened.

_Well? Comment on my story and tell me what you think. Be frank cause it will only help me get better. Ideas are nice too. _


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